by Jae
In the grand scheme of things, their little moment wasn’t important anyway. So what if they’d both become a bit confused for a second? Their arrangement would be over soon, and during the time that was left, Lana would carefully remind herself that Claire was a woman on the rebound.
It was as easy as that.
Then why did it take forever for her to fall asleep?
Lana turned up the volume of the radio, tapped the rhythm on the steering wheel, and sang along as loudly as she could to make up for knowing only half the lyrics of the Beach Boys’ song.
Another voice mingled with her own, singing much less off-key and getting all the words right.
Figures. Lana grinned. Of course her little perfectionist would know the lyrics by heart.
The sharp blaring of a car horn interrupted their cheerful singing.
Something slammed into their car with the force of a tank, and suddenly, they were spinning across the street.
Lana tried to counter-steer, to brake, to do something—anything—but the car spun out of control. All she could do was clutch the steering wheel and stare at the wide-eyed faces of drivers in oncoming cars.
Vehicles crazily veered around them, honking, tires squealing.
Then, with the sound of a tin can being crushed, they slammed into the guardrail. Shards of glass hailed down on her, and twisted metal pierced her arm and leg.
Blood spurted everywhere, but she felt no pain.
Smoke curled up from the crumpled hood.
“We have to get out!” Lana shouted and turned her head to see if they could escape through the passenger-side door.
Claire was slumped over, held in place only by the seat belt. A large piece of metal had drilled through her chest, and blood drenched her blouse.
Claire’s blood.
“No, no, no, no!” Lana screamed out her despair. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She pressed her hands to Claire’s chest and tried to hold back the stream of blood. “Claire! God, no! Not you!”
A sound wrenched Claire from deep sleep. She blinked into the dim light provided by the Empire State Building and other high-rises next to the hotel and brought one hand out from under the covers to wipe her brow.
God, what a nightmare!
Hazily, she remembered dreaming that she and Lana had met with Ms. Huge. But instead of making small talk and discussing the terms of the contract, the acquisitions editor had put them through an interrogation about their relationship, as if she suspected that they were just pretending to be a couple.
Endless questions had been fired at them: When had they met? Where had their first date been? How had their family reacted to their engagement? What was their favorite thing to do in bed?
Claire rolled her eyes. Ms. Huge definitely wouldn’t ask that. It was a stupid dream, nothing m—
A whimper from next to her made her jerk upright.
Lana!
She was tangled beneath the covers, groaning and gasping. Clearly, she was having a nightmare too, but hers seemed to be about something much worse than intrusive questions about her sex life.
A constant string of moans tore from Lana’s throat, and she mumbled something Claire couldn’t make out. Was it oh God, oh God?
Claire’s gaze darted around as if looking for help.
You are a trained psychologist, for Christ’s sake! Do something! But as much as she tried, she couldn’t remember whether you were supposed to wake a person from such an intense nightmare or not. When it came to Lana, all her training went out the window.
Then Lana sucked in a shuddery breath that almost sounded like a sob, and Claire couldn’t bear it any longer.
Gently, she touched her fingertips to Lana’s shoulder. “Lana? Wake up. It’s just a dream.”
Lana woke with a gasp, like a diver who’d just made it to the surface after nearly drowning. The white of her eyes gleamed in the light from outside as she wildly looked around, not quite awake.
“It’s okay,” Claire whispered. “I think you had a nightmare.”
A groan rose from Lana’s chest. Before Claire could react, Lana threw herself into her arms and buried her face against the curve of her neck.
“Uh.” Slowly, Claire lifted her hands. She hesitated with her fingers hovering over Lana’s back. All of her concerns—keeping a professional distance, sticking to the terms of the contract—weren’t important right now. Lana needed her. She lowered her hands and gently stroked Lana’s back.
Shudders racked Lana’s body. As Claire repeated her soothing touches again and again, they slowly ebbed away until Lana lay still in her arms and the tense muscles beneath her fingers relaxed.
Lana sniffled once, then exhaled.
Her warm breath made goose bumps spread over Claire’s skin. Stop it, she told her rebellious body. Lana needed a friend; her stupid confused libido had no place in this.
“Sorry,” Lana mumbled and tried to pull away.
Claire didn’t let her. She gently held her with one arm while she lifted the other hand and brushed a strand of sweat-dampened hair away from Lana’s face. “Don’t apologize. Want to tell me about it?”
Lana turned onto her side and nestled against Claire like a giant koala bear. “It was the same stupid dream.”
“You’re dreaming about the accident?” Claire tried hard not to switch into therapist mode, because she knew Lana would withdraw if she sensed it. Truth be told, with Lana cuddled against her, it was easy to keep her inner therapist at bay.
“Yes. It’s always the same. But this time—”
“This time?” Claire prompted when Lana didn’t continue. She fanned her fingers over Lana’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m not psychoanalyzing your dreams.”
“I know. That’s not why I…” Lana nibbled her bottom lip. “I thought these nightmares had stopped. I don’t know what’s triggering them now.”
Claire trailed her fingers soothingly across Lana’s back again. “Maybe all this stress. If you’d rather not come to the interview and just meet me at the restaurant where we’ll have lunch with Ms. Huge…”
It wouldn’t be ideal. Since the interview was scheduled to last until eleven and noon was the only time Ms. Huge could meet with them, they would have to go from the radio station directly to the meeting with the editor. That was why she had wanted Lana to accompany her to the interview so that Ms. Huge would see them arrive at the restaurant together. It would bolster Lana’s image as the supportive fiancée who would help promote Claire’s book in whatever way she could.
“No,” Lana said immediately. “I want to come. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. I won’t let you down.”
“That’s not what has me worried. I’m worried about you, not about the book deal. Okay, not just about the book deal.”
“I’ll be fine,” Lana repeated. “Really.” She yawned widely. “We should try to go back to sleep, or we won’t be at our best tomorrow.”
Claire nodded.
Neither of them let go or moved away.
“Is…is it okay if we stay like this for a little longer?” Lana sounded almost childlike. She searched Claire’s face in the semi-darkness. “Maybe…until I go back to sleep?”
“Sure.” Normally, Claire preferred some space while she tried to fall asleep, but if a bit of physical contact soothed Lana and helped her get some rest, it would be a good thing for the book deal.
If she was honest with herself, that wasn’t the only reason she allowed Lana to keep clinging to her. Having Lana’s warm, curvy body close was as sensual and relaxing as a bubble bath.
At least for now the awkward tension between them seemed to have eased.
“Sleep well,” Claire whispered. “And if you have another nightmare, wake me.”
Lana chuckled. “If I have another nightmare, I’ll be asleep and won’t be able to wake
you.”
“True. Then you’d better not have another nightmare.”
Lana pressed her cheek to Claire’s shoulder. “I don’t think I will.” She wiggled her toes against Claire’s feet and yawned. Soon, her breathing grew deeper.
Claire watched her for a while, going nearly cross-eyed because Lana was so close. Holding her while she slept, protecting her, filled her with a warm feeling that she didn’t want to examine too closely.
To her own amazement, it wasn’t very long until she felt herself drift off to sleep too.
Chapter 15
Claire stared into the mirror above the sink. Her makeup was immaculate, but she still didn’t feel as if she had her game face on.
Last night, she had fallen asleep almost immediately—first while she waited for Lana to come out of the bathroom, then after Lana’s nightmare had woken her. Both times, it had been as if her exhausted brain had put the emergency brakes on before everything that had happened could overwhelm her and keep her up all night.
But now all her thoughts were back—thoughts of their magical evening on the High Line, which had ended with Lana in her arms.
She really should be focused on her interview and the meeting afterward, but no matter how often she tried to guide her thoughts toward interview questions and publishing discussions, they always returned to that moment on the roller-skating rink and to the way it had felt to hold a trembling Lana in her arms last night and waking up with Lana still cuddled against her.
Get yourself together! You hired Lana to help you get the book deal, not to distract you from it.
A soft knock on the door made her flinch.
“Yes?” Claire called.
The door opened an inch. “Are you decent?”
Claire peeked down at her scoop-neck silk camisole top and the Armani skirt suit. “I would hope so.”
Lana opened the door more fully. Her gaze swept Claire’s body in a way that made her tingle all over. “Wow. You look great. If book deals were awarded based on the looks of the author, your book would be in print already.”
The compliment warmed her down to her toes. “Thank you.” She regarded Lana, who was wearing an ankle-length, chocolate-brown skirt and a white wrap top that emphasized her curves rather than hiding them. “You look wonderful too.”
“So this is okay?” Lana tugged on her top.
“Very okay. But there’s one important thing missing.”
“Makeup?” Lana asked. “I put on a little. Can’t you tell?”
“No. Not makeup. I’m talking about this.” She squeezed past Lana, ignoring the sensual scent of her perfume, and went to her purse, which sat on the desk. She reached inside and pulled out the small, black box.
Lana joined her and peered over her shoulder to see what she was holding.
Her closeness made Claire warm all over. She turned toward her and snapped open the lid.
The delicate feather ring with its sky-blue topaz sparkled against the black velvet.
“Oh,” Lana said. “The ring. Of course.”
Claire pulled the ring from its velvet bed. Gently, she took Lana’s hand. Her gaze flickered up to her eyes, then her lips, then back to her hand. Jesus, why did this feel so real? As if she was about to put an engagement ring on Lana’s finger for real, one that she’d later exchange for a wedding ring before they would go off on a honeymoon.
Oh, no, no, no. Don’t go there. You’ve got to share the bed with her again tonight. No honeymoon thoughts! Think platonic thoughts. Unsexy thoughts.
But that was easier said than done with Lana’s soft hand in hers, her body so close, and her trusting, almost intimate gaze on her.
Come on. You know what this is. You’re latching on to the first woman you’ve met after the breakup. That’s classic rebound. You should be stronger than that.
Just as she was about to slide the ring onto Lana’s finger, Lana cleared her throat and pulled her hand from Claire’s grasp. “Um, I can do it.” She took the ring from her and backed away half a step before sliding it on her finger.
Oh. Yeah. That’s what she should have done in the first place—let Lana put on the damn ring herself. She took a closer look at Lana’s fingers. Were they trembling? “You okay? I mean, after last night…” The statement sounded too ambiguous, so she quickly added, “After the nightmare…”
“I’m fine.” Lana looked up from the ring and studied her. “Sorry about last night. For latching on to you like that and for waking you up. I never realized I’m so loud.” She flushed. “I mean, when I’m having a nightmare.”
“It’s okay,” Claire said. “I’m just glad you didn’t have any more nightmares after that. You didn’t, did you?”
Lana shook her head. After hesitating for a second, she asked quietly, “Are we okay?”
Claire didn’t know how to answer that. There wasn’t even really a we, was there?
Before she could decide what to answer, the phone on the bedside table rang.
They both jumped.
Claire crossed the room and picked up the phone.
It was the front desk, telling her the cab she’d asked for had arrived. She thanked the clerk and hung up.
“The cab is here.” Claire swallowed. Showtime. She put on the suit jacket and grabbed her purse and the manuscript so she could take another look at it in the cab.
Together, they walked to the door.
Claire opened it and held it for Lana. As Lana passed her, Claire said, “We’re fine.”
Lana stopped and looked at her. For a moment, Claire thought she might follow up with another question, but then she nodded, smiled, and led the way to the elevator.
Claire exhaled and followed her.
Dr. Christine Graham, the host of the radio talk show, was exactly the kind of woman Lana suspected Claire would normally go for: a fellow psychologist with flowing, honey-blonde hair and a sexy Scottish lilt.
Truth be told, under different circumstances, Lana might have given those twinkling cornflower-blue eyes a second look too, but being attracted to one psychologist was already confusing enough.
Claire made no attempt to flirt either, as if she was too focused on the upcoming interview to even notice how beautiful the interviewer was. Or maybe she wanted to uphold the image of the faithful fiancée.
As Christine gave them a quick tour of the radio station, Lana kept touching the ring with her thumb. The metal had warmed and fit her finger as if it had been there for ages.
It’s a prop, she kept reminding herself. Just part of the act. Don’t get used to it.
Finally, Christine ended the tour in front of her soundproof, glass-enclosed studio. “Sorry,” she said to Lana. “This is as far as you can go. But if you’d like, you can keep my producer company in the control room and watch from there.” She pointed at the room next to the studio, separated from it by a wall with a large window.
“Thank you. I’d love that.” She turned toward Claire, who’d put on her therapist mask, but Lana knew her well enough by now to glimpse the nervousness beneath. “Don’t worry. You’ll do great. The listeners will love you.” For Christine’s benefit, she added, “But, of course, not half as much as I do.”
“Thanks, honey,” Claire said.
Christine looked back and forth between them and grinned. “Last chance for a good-luck kiss.”
“Uh…” Claire looked at her as if she’d been asked to perform a striptease.
Christine laughed. “Don’t be shy on my account. I’m bi myself, so a wee snog between two women won’t shock me.”
Lana gave herself a mental kick and stepped forward. One quick good-luck kiss. It was what was expected of a loving fiancée. All part of the contract.
Claire stood rooted to the spot, clutching her manuscript with both hands. Her eyes widened as Lana approached.
Lana slid her hands beneath the lapels of Claire’s blazer and smoothed her fingers over the silk of her camisole top right below Claire’s collarbone. She tugged on her lapels. Come on, Claire. Play along. We’ve kissed before. No big deal. But after that moment at the edge of the skating rink last night, it somehow was.
Almost shyly, Claire slid her hand onto Lana’s hip to keep her balance as they both leaned forward at the same time.
A quick, encouraging peck was all Lana had intended, just enough to make their couple status more believable and to give Claire a supportive send-off. But when their lips met and Claire’s warm, soft mouth slid over hers, Lana’s eyes fluttered shut. Her hands tightened on Claire’s lapels on their own accord, pulling her closer.
Claire’s low moan feathered over Lana’s lips, and she parted them instinctively to meet Claire’s smooth tongue.
She tasted like mint and passion and Claire, an intoxicating mix that made Lana’s head spin.
Their tongues caressed each other with long, sensual strokes.
A throaty hum from Claire vibrated through Lana’s body. Heat pooled between her thighs, and her fingers curled more tightly into Claire’s blazer.
Christine loudly cleared her throat next to them, as if she’d done it several times already without them paying her any attention.
Blinking, Lana eased away from Claire’s lips and stared into her smoky-gray eyes.
Claire stared back and then lifted her hand to her mouth and touched it as if she couldn’t understand what had just happened.
Lana could barely believe it either. That kiss had taken method acting a little too far. Acting? No. That hadn’t been an act, at least not for her. But what about Claire? Had she merely gone with the flow to convince the radio host she was in a happy relationship?
If that was what she’d set out to do, it had been a success.
“Phew, lassies.” Christine fanned herself with both hands and grinned at Claire. “I can see that your agent hasn’t exaggerated when she sold you as an expert on how to keep that spark in your relationship.”
“Uh, I’m…”